


For Me It Was Hours

by cazflibs



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Gen, Red Dwarf XI Twentica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8104090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazflibs/pseuds/cazflibs
Summary: Spoilers for Series XI, episode 1 - 'Twentica'. Plot-filler. Captured by the Expanoids, Rimmer tries to work out what the smeg is going on.





	

Rimmer really didn't fancy opening his eyes.

He was a well-seasoned traveller of unchartered space. He knew all-too-well what these Simulants would be plotting for him, with their infamous penchant for torture. God, they were probably preparing the buttock corkscrews and Easy-Listening music right at this very moment.

Finally, drawn out by curiosity, he inched open his eyelids.

Or, you know. They could be ignoring him completely.

Indeed, 4 of 27 was deep in conversation with two flanking Expanoids, firing out coordinates and gesturing intently to the read-out screens. Some were checking print offs, others in animated conversation and mutual celebration. Another was performing checks on the Casket of Chronos that Lister had jettisoned across only minutes before.

Not one had even looked at him, let alone measured him up for the torture rack.

Despite his silence, Rimmer’s right leg jiggled nervously as if trying to surreptitiously eject some rogue ferret from his trouser leg. This was worse than waiting outside the Headmaster’s office.

Yes of course his cowardice was still there after all these years, but now more like a background shadow than an overriding drive. Perhaps nowadays he was just getting a bit too old for it all. The Rogue Simulants, GELFs, BEGGs, polymorphs, who were once a near-fatal yet strangely welcome distraction from the monotony of deep space, were now becoming irritating interruptions. Like a knock at the door from a window salesman right in the middle of _Countdown_.

Pursing his lips, Rimmer waggling an uncertain finger to try and capture someone's - anyone's - attention. “Excuse me?”

No response. Not even a hackneyed cliché over his impending doom.

Finally he brandished open his arms in affront. He really didn't have time for this. “Please! Don't let me be a distraction!”

As if he'd only just realised the hologram was in the room, 4 of 27 acknowledged him with a quick nod before his gaze returned to the console. "Thank you, Mr Rimmer," he droned, only mildly interested by his presence. His buzzing, monotonous tone sounded reminiscent of one attempting to cut short an unimpressive interview. "Your assistance has been most helpful today."

Rimmer opened his mouth to bite a reply but then reeled it back, aghast. "Assistance?"

4 of 27 glanced up. Clocking the confusion on Rimmer’s face, the Expanoid brandished a mocking pout. “You’ve drawn the short straw today it seems. My condolences,” he offered, his tone nowhere near the realms of apology.

Jaw set tight, Rimmer ground his teeth audibly. So he had been right. An alternative version of himself had well and truly played them for fools.

"Anyway, I won't keep you,” the Expanoid batted away the subject with lofty abandon. “After all, you've got somewhere else to be, as have we."

"You -- I do?" 

4 of 27 snorted in amusement. "Oh, and apologies in advance for my rather unsavoury conduct this morning. I was in somewhat of a bad mood." He waggled his fingers in a dainty farewell. "Toodle pip."

Before Rimmer could even offer a response, 4 of 27 pushed a button on the console.

And then everything seemed to turn inside out.

A great force, like a deep bass pulse, thudded inside Rimmer's chest as his surroundings began to blur. Dizzy, he screwed his eyes shut - his arms spread to steady himself despite still standing in the same spot - before the resonation died just as quickly.

Blinking them open once more he noticed, with a mounting sense of frustration, that the room was now empty. The Expanoids had gone, leaving him to his own devices.

Rimmer swallowed back a strangely familiar lurch of motion sickness before allowing a scowl to settle comfortably on his features. "What the smeg is going on?!" he demanded.

Nothing. Just the echo of his own irritated voice bouncing from cold, clinical walls.

He rolled his eyes. "Well this is just dandy, isn't it?” he spat. “Stranded on some sodding Simulant ship thanks to some back-stabbing version of myself who was happy to sell ME out to save his own worthless hide."

"Have you _quite_ finished with your whining?"

Rimmer wheeled round. Flanked by two Expanoid guards, 4 of 27 now stood in the doorway.

"Whining?!" Rimmer echoed, incredulous. Despite the instinctive cowardice that would usually reduce him to a gibbering silence, his anally-retentive affront at such an accusation took unworthy centre-stage. "I should think after the morning you've put me through, I have every right to feel a little put out."

Digital black eyes narrowed as 4 of 27 regarded him, bemused. “Care to enlighten me, hologram?"

Nostrils flaring at such a debasing address, Rimmer ticked off each grievance on long thin fingers. "I've been humiliated, blackmailed, double-crossed and, well - ” Flustered, he scrabbled for a fitting word, “ – ignored!”

As soon as the word left his mouth he could hear the echo of how petty he sounded. He shrugged, feathers ruffled. "I'm sorry, but it has to be said. If I'm to be captured as a prisoner of war, the least you could do is acknowledge my arrival in the proper manner."

Now far less amused, 4 of 27 inclined his head with a whirring of servos. "You are finding the conditions of your captivity somewhat inadequate?" he asked, voice dangerously quiet.

Part of him screamed to shut the smeg up as the Expanoid crossed the room to stand before him. Instead, the burning need to justify himself fuelled Rimmer's path into a storm he outright failed to see coming.

"It's a case of common decency,” he pressed. “And to think you come from a warrior class. I mean, you’re quick to belittle this '3 of 63'. But perhaps what he lacks in stature, he makes up for in manners."

The Expanoid’s false, thin-lipped smile that had struggled to hold back an onslaught of rage suddenly erupted into a manic grin. He thrust out a hand that clamped around Rimmer's throat with unwavering mechanical strength.

Rimmer wheezed, scrabbling at the hand that effortlessly dragged him up until he was balancing precariously on the tips of his boots. Of course, technically speaking he couldn't be choked to death. But even without the necessity to breathe, it wasn't exactly a pleasant experience.

He recoiled as the Expanoid leaned in close enough for him to hear the daggered words hissed into his face.

"Your arrogance is astounding. If it wasn't for the fact that your being alive was necessary to proceed with our plans, please be assured that you would have already been flushed from the nearest airlock. Am I making myself clear?"

Despite the obvious poor use of phrasing, Rimmer reached the somewhat intelligent conclusion that correcting the Expanoid on the fact that he was technically already dead would not be a sensible move at this point. Instead he nodded, as far as the crushing grip around his throat would allow anyway.

As if suddenly coming back to himself, the tension melted from that distorted face as 4 of 27 sighed. "I'm sorry. It's not been a good week.”

Rimmer simply blinked in response.

“You know, 6 of 42 was right." His attention suddenly elsewhere, 4 of 27 gestured with the free hand that wasn't currently clamped around Rimmer's neck, as if in recitation. "When faced with a stressful situation, I resort to channelling my frustrations into needless violence." He shook his head in self-reprimand before returning his attention to his hostage. "Me and 3 of 63, we're -- I'm just working through a few things, you know?"

Rimmer stared, dumbfounded. The juxtaposition was simply bizarre. A harsh digitised monotony voicing such human sentiments.

Unsure how to respond, Rimmer bunched his cheeks awkwardly in a facial shrug. "S'fine," he managed, his words hissing their release past tight lips as he strained against the unforgiving grip. "Understandable."

As if he'd just realised that he was still maintaining a choking grasp on his captive, 4 of 27 released him suddenly. Rimmer dropped back to his heels, a squeaking gasp ripping back into his lungs. Hologram he may be, but human instinct was hard to ignore.

4 of 27 straightened proudly. "I am an Expanoid of standing. Such behaviour is not becoming of me, my apologies. This is simply not the way we deal with hostages.” He gestured with a bow of the head. “Let us conduct our discussions in the proper manner."

Rimmer sighed gratefully, smoothing out the creases in his tunic.

"6 of 72! Bring forth a chair!"

Buoyed up by ill-found confidence, a smug grin surfaced on weasel features as he flashed a reprimanding eyebrow at 6 of 72.

4 of 27 proffered a grin of his own. "And strap him into it."

Hazel eyes widening, the smirk dropped like a lead weight. "What?!"

Rimmer's hands fumbled at his collar as it was wrenched back by the inhuman grip on the scruff of his uniform. Over-buffed boots tripped over one another as he was marched across the room to a chair and unceremoniously thrust down into it.

“Now,” 4 of 27 began with relish, as the Expanoid guards secured Rimmer’s wrists and ankles, “let us commence with a little more decorum, yes?”

He crossed to the table where a line of remote controls sat in grim wait and selected the first. Pointing it directly at Rimmer, the hologram recoiled as a harsh infa-red scanner crossed up and down his face and chest before retracting just as quickly.

4 of 27 grinned unashamedly. “This device is now locked onto the control system for your light bee. If you refuse to comply with my questions, my little friend here will send a signal instructing your projection to power surge. Allow me to demonstrate!”

As 4 of 27 pressed the button, Rimmer screwed his eyes closed in wincing anticipation. A buzzing, high-pitched whine cut through the expectant silence. Nothing happened. Curious, Rimmer peeled open one eye. Indeed, 4 of 27 seemed equally baffled, as the buzzing continued with no effect on the hologram whatsoever.

Eyebrows pinched in confusion, Rimmer leant to peer behind the Expanoid. A digital monitor was slowly descending from the gantry with a high-pitched whine.

"Oh, Creator!" 4 of 27 tutted in blasphemy. "Sorry about this. It really isn't my day."

The droid crossed to the table to swap remote controls before brandishing the correct one in Rimmer’s face with child-like glee. Rimmer recoiled again as the red light temporarily blinded him before cutting out to reveal the Expanoid once more.

"Now," 4 of 27 leant in menacingly. "You'll begin by telling us your name."

Rimmer’s brow knotted. That didn't make sense. "What are you talking about? You already know my - ARGH!" He cried out as bolts of electricity lanced through his projection before retracting just as swiftly.

"Your NAME, hologram."

"Rimmer!" he gasped quickly. "But you already - ARGH!" A second bolt of electricity stabbed and crackled through his body.

"FULL name, if you please. You're in formal company here."

The charge wrenched itself back once more. "-- OW! Smegging -- Arnold Rimmer!" God, his barking demands sounded eerily reminiscent of his father. Well. His step-father, technically. "Arnold JUDAS Rimmer if we're being truly pedantic," he ground out.

A smile stretched its way luxuriously across grey dimpled cheeks. "Thank you, Mr Rimmer." 4 of 27 nodded his appreciation. "Remember. _Manners maketh the man_."

Rimmer scowled up at him. Definitely far too reminiscent.

As if in teasing indication, 4 of 27 made a great show of turning his attentions to the badge pinned to Rimmer's tunic before tapping it triumphantly. Rimmer glanced down before returning the Exponoid's knowing grin with an exasperated whine.

"My name is on my badge."

4 of 27 grinned unashamedly. "Sometimes a little," he tipped his playful shrug back and forth, as if to decide on the right word, " _persuasion_ is needed to check the two pieces of information corroborate." He cast his gaze over the badge once more, eyes narrowing. "Space Corps," he spat. "Which division?"

Rimmer swallowed. His tone had clouded dangerously dark.

"JMC," he replied quickly. When no reply came, Rimmer fumbled for an explanation. "Look, we're not marines or anything. We're just a mining ship.”

4 of 27 nodded. He seemed to accept this. Coal-black eyes flitted critically across his uniform. "What's your rank?"

Despite his confusion, Rimmer stuck to his guns. A nervous tongue darted out to wet his lips. "Look, I know it's not official. But I _am_ Acting Navigation Officer."

4 of 27 treated him to a raised eyebrow. " _Acting_ Navigation Officer, eh?" This time his tone seemed a little less convinced. “Humour me. How would you propose applying De Burgh’s Theory of Four-Dimensional Triganomics to cross-sector route plotting?”

The corner of Rimmer's nose gave an involuntary rodent-twitch. "Um - "

FZZZZZZT!

"Your RANK."

"Well technically speaking, I --"

FZZZZZZT!

"Argh! First Technician."

FZZZZZZT!

"ARGH - SECOND! All right?” he cried, defeated. “I'm Second Technician Arnold Judas Rimmer."

“Finally!” The Expanoid brandished open his hands in triumph. “Now was that so hard?”

Rimmer shrank into the chair, utterly humiliated. Despite the fact he’d spent over 20 years refining his skills behind the navigation console on _Starbug_ , even the automated JMC on-board computer refused to grant him his pips. True, on occasion he’d been known to look at the wrong panel, but everybody was entitled to make mistakes every now and then.

With the monitor already conveniently in place, 4 of 27 gestured to the screen behind him where a security tape was playing a recording from the _A.S. Anatos_. Rimmer recognised it immediately. It was the derelict they'd looted a few weeks back.

"Do you recognise this human?" The footage showed Lister rifling through the contents of a metal crate. He paused to thrust a finger up his nose, dig out and inspect the offending blockage, before flicking it away.

A disgusted snort jetted down cavernous nostrils. "Well, I recognise him AS human which, frankly, is saying someth- ARGH!" A shock locked his body in a painful spasm before releasing him once more.

"His NAME, hologram."

Rimmer panted for breath. "But you KNOW his name already. Why are you asking for his -- hang on, wait!" His hands waved furiously from under tight restraints as the Expanoid's finger hovered dangerously close to the remote's button. "It's Lister, okay? David Lister." His jaw jabbered. "Ah! Th-Third Technician!" He leapt to proffer what was sure to be the next question before this crazed Expanoid could get too trigger-happy.

4 of 27 looked almost disappointed. "So this David Lister is under YOUR jurisdiction?"

Rimmer paused over the familiar turn of phrase. This was all sounding like a strange case of deja vu. "Ye-es," he said slowly, still lost in thought. Remembering himself, he cleared his throat. "Even if I am just a Second Technician, I’m still his superior."

"So this - " the Expanoid looked equally repulsed, " - human reports to you?"

"Yes."

"And follows your every command?"

An involuntary eye twitch almost gave the game away. "Well – ”

The Lister on-screen drew forth a flat, circular device from the crate. Turning it over in his hands, he tossed it in the air a few times before tapping it against the desk, as if it to test its stability.

"So it was YOU who instructed this human to steal our Casket of Chronos?"

Eyes set with a distant panic, a strange yelp somehow managing to escape through Rimmer’s tight-set mouth.

FZZZZZZT!

"Argh! Look, I'm sorry, okay?” Rimmer implored. “But you have what you came for. Why are you still holding me hostage?"

The Expanoid tapped him playfully on the nose. "Because you still have one last trick to perform for us, Mr Rimmer.” The droid straightened. “And once you do, the Casket of Chronos will be rightfully returned to us."

Rimmer blinked twice, mouth hung open. Perhaps his light bee had been frazzled by all those power surges, corrupting his aural/comprehension relay. " -- come again?"

4 of 27 smiled knowingly. "Sit tight, Mr Rimmer, whilst we discuss our plans.” Following his gesture, the guards accompanied him to the doorway. “I'd offer you a chance to join us, but you're rather tied up at the moment!” he chuckled, highly amused at his own joke.

Rimmer groaned audibly. “Oh for smeg's sake, clichés - ?"

The Expanoids wheeled round to glare at him.

" -- are, well the old ones are the best, aren't they?"

With the Expanoids now in the next room, Rimmer began to test his restraints. No good. They were as carefully fixed as a TV talent show.

Despite his rising terror, Rimmer steadied himself, trying to conduct order from the mass of panicked ramblings in his mind and orchestrate it into some semblance of a plan.

_Right. What would Napoleon do?_

Probably sit in his crisp, white officer's tent and demand more Brie for his baguette.

_Come on, man. Remember that key saying - 'Knowledge is power'._

Who the smeg said that?

_It doesn't matter, you gimboid. Just listen to what they're saying!_

Rimmer strained to listen beyond the open doorway. The voices were distant but just about audible.

"Once we have the Chronos Casket in our possession, we can plug it into the temporal transporter, expand the beam, and ride the time stream back to the crucial point in human history. From there, we will be able to stop them developing the technology they would need to destroy us."

Rimmer’s face fell. These deranged droids would be capable of time travel? Nose twitching in rodent-like concentration, he pushed the weight down into his toes and leant back slowly, just enough to tip the chair back to listen more clearly.

"How can we be sure they will give in to our demands?"

"We will tell them that the Casket contains the essence of one of our own. Sentiment is a human weakness. If he believes the amplifier is simply a memorial, he will willingly trade it for the whiny hostage."

"Whiny?!"

His affront was enough to throw off his concentration. Realising it was way too late to salvage his balance and unable to break his fall, Rimmer let out an inelegant squeal as the chair and its host crashed backwards to the deck.

The trio of Expanoids whipped back to the doorway where the hologram now lay.

Wide eyes flitting across them in turn, Rimmer's jaw hovered open, ready to present a plausible explanation. Finding none, he smiled awkwardly.

Sometimes the key was knowing when it was best to shut up.

******

The brig was every bit as welcoming as Rimmer expected it to be. Dank, damp and cold. Time had well and truly eluded him now. Countless hours had passed in the silence.

Still, at least he had company. Not that they were great conversationalists.

Knees drawn up to his chest, Rimmer risked a glance left then right. The fetid stench of rotting GELF carcasses flanked him, their skeletal jaws locked in an eternal leer.

Furiously drumming his fingers against his legs, a small squeak somehow found its escape. Not that he had much to say to them either.

Rimmer jumped, startled, as the door suddenly squealed open. Blinking against the rush of light that flooded the cell, he could make out a helmeted Expanoid stood silhouetted against the glare of the corridor.

"Show time," it said simply.

******

The guards frog-marched him back to the Flight Deck where 4 of 27 now sat, flanked by two armed Expanoids. Facing the comms screen, he was deep in conversation with an unseen crew.

“We wish to conduct a transaction of goods with you.”

Rimmer's lips pursed at the déjà vu. Checking he wasn't being watched, he inclined his head as surreptitiously as he could to get a better view of who 4 of 27 was talking to. He frowned against the screen’s glare. The cockpit’s dashboard looked awfully familiar.

He inched further, finally able to see the crew for himself.

Rimmer swallowed. Which seemed to include himself.

“ _But you're simulants,_ ” came the disturbingly familiar voice over the speakers. “ _You despise humans. Why would you want to trade with us?_ ”

Rimmer’s mouth dropped. "Hang on. Hasn't this already happ-?"

A fierce collar grip and a gun thrust against his head quickly cut him off. "Silence, hologram!" a distorted voice hissed in his ear.

4 of 27 held a perfect poker face, relishing every clichéd moment. “You have something we want. And we have something you want.”

Rimmer's pained grimace slowly unfolded in realisation. This wasn't a bizarre case of deja vu. This _had_ already happened.

" _What_?"

Rimmer balked at the sound of his own disbelieving voice from the comm screen.

Suddenly he remembered the strangely familiar lurching sensation he'd experienced when he'd first arrived. It might not have been obvious at the time, but his system clearly knew a time jump when it felt it.

“A hostage. Taken from a human transport ship.”

No wonder 4 of 27 hadn't remembered his name. He didn't even know it yet. And then it hit him like a punch to the gut. It was him. He had given them all the information they needed. Handed it to them on a smegging plate.

So the hostage they'd seen on the screen had been...

"Allow me to show you."

“ – me,” Rimmer gasped, as 4 of 27 rose from his chair. He glanced up as the Expanoid grabbed him by the arm, pulled him across and thrust him down into the chair.

Dazed, Rimmer’s eyes widened as he saw the four of them as they had sat only hours before, regarding the screen with a disbelieving wariness. Their expressions fuelled an eruption of panic in his chest.

"Guys, it's me!” he yelled. “I've been taken hostage! You've got to help me!"

Before he could explain, 4 of 27 wrenched him out of the chair and shoved him back to the armed guards. Rimmer struggled against their grasp in hope of keeping in range of the microphone. “Lister!” he yelled. “The casket! It's not – ”

Clamping a hand across his mouth, the guards shoved him back against the far wall, guns trained at his chest. “You give the game away and this trade doesn't pull off, hologram, we’ll be using your dead light bee as a paper weight.”

Rimmer shook; frustrated, frightened and humiliated. He was too far from the comms desk to hear the rest of the conversation, but he knew precisely what they were saying. The Dwarfers were debating amongst themselves which version of Rimmer it was they'd just seen and decide who would handle negotiations.

But would they still agree to trade his life for…?

The console beeped triumphantly. 4 of 27 held aloft the Casket of Chronos to a wave of cheers and cries of celebration before waving it pointedly in Rimmer’s direction.

"Luckily for you, history always repeats itself,” he chided, passing the casket to an awaiting Expanoid.

Rimmer regarded it grimly. Their exchange would buy him his freedom, but the shockwaves its power would send through the course of human history would not be pretty. Just like a cat being crated for a trip to the vets, causality could quickly turn nasty on you when messed around with.

Closing the gap between them, 4 of 27 pulled out the remote once more. Rimmer’s panic rose as he thrust it under his chin.

“R-remember our deal,” he stammered, jaw set tight. Just as he didn't particular fancy another painful power surge, he also needed to get back to Starbug to tell the others of their plans. Kryten would think of something. They always thought of something. “You can't go back on your word, you know.”

The droid gave a dark, dismissive snort as Rimmer quivered silently. “You know how tempting it is to throw caution to the wind, causality down a lift shaft and see what happens if I chose instead to fry your light bee to a crisp?”

“ _Now_ ,” called an all-too-familiar voice from the comms link. “ _About the hostage?_ ”

4 of 27 smiled impishly, suddenly springing back to loftiness in a manner Rimmer found dangerously unpredictable. “But how can I refuse when he asks so nicely?”

From the privilege of hindsight – or should that be foresight? - Rimmer grimaced at his naivety. The poor bugger didn't know what was coming.

The console began to whir as the Casket began powering up the system for a time jump. “As you suggested yourself, I’ll try to give his arrival my full attention.” The Expanoid winked in farewell.

Rimmer was left, mouth agape, as he was beamed back to _Starbug_ ; closing the paradox and bringing the Time Loop back full circle once more.


End file.
